I'm My Own Grandpa
by Marmalade Fever
Summary: Draco is obsessed with a photograph of his grandparents who look exactly like himself and Hermione Granger. Two shot, DMHG, bizarre.
1. Chapter 1

I'm My Own Grandpa

By Marmalade Fever

Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim Harry Potter or any related insignia, which is the creation and property of J.K. Rowling.

Draco found himself staring at the picture again. People had always commented that he looked exactly like his grandfather, Draco Malfoy I. Exactly seemed an understatement. He looked absolutely, positively identical to the man. They had the same nose, eyes, eyebrows… scars. They were one another's spitting image. In recent years, however, Draco's attention had been drawn to the woman on his grandfather's arm, his grandmother. There was very little known about Jane Malfoy. Some even said that Jane was her middle name. His own father didn't know her first name for certain. All Draco really knew about her was her appearance at the age of nineteen, as seen in this photo, and that she was a pureblood. Lucius was orphaned not long after his birth and raised by a friend of the family. What struck Draco, though… was her appearance. It was one thing for his grandfather to look exactly like himself, but quite another for his grandmother to look exactly like Hermione Granger.

He hadn't noticed the similarities until his fifth year, when he happened to glance across the classroom at her and found her in more or less the same pose as his grandmother, smiling and chatting amiably. That was when he noticed her teeth. Her teeth, which had, not too long before, been long, were then short, straight… so like his grandmother's that it caused his heart to skip a palpitation.

Now that Draco himself was nineteen, a refugee of the dark side, he found himself staring again and again at that picture. Could he possibly find a relative in the mudblood?

…

It was late at night and the moon was full. Draco had been sleeping on his cot, shivering against the cold under the tiny blanket. He heard two loud pops and was awake instantly, staring around the small room. None of his bunkmates seemed to have heard a thing, sleeping on like the logs they were. A second light, besides that of the moon, illuminated the room and he saw two dark figures. One was a woman, the other a man, both elderly. Although he couldn't see their faces, he felt immediately drawn to them and unafraid. The woman held her hand out to him and Draco took it. It was warm and familiar.

…

They were in a bedroom somewhere. It was dark here and the elderly man's wand cast a larger pool of light across the floor. There were bookcases… five of them, all heavily laden. Against the wall was a twin sized bed, a large violet comforter draped across a solitary figure.

"Hermione," the man said, this time offering his hand to the girl, whom had also been awakened by the pops. She looked around curiously, as if in a dream, and took the man's hand.

…

They were in a large old house overlooking the sea. It was early morning here. The woman had brought them each a cup of tea and placed a plate of biscuits before them. They ate in silence. The clock struck five and the elderly couple exchanged a look.

"Do you have the photo, Draco?" the woman asked, holding out her hand.

"Yes." He gave it to her and she smiled down at him.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked.

Draco nodded. "You're my grandmother."

She smiled. "And who am I to you, Hermione?" she asked.

The girl paused. "You're me."

"You're both correct," the elderly man said, drawing a chain from around his neck and setting it before them. "We are you."

Draco nodded. "I thought so. But you're also my grandparents."

The couple exchanged a smile and nodded. "True."

The girl looked questioningly at the chain on the table. "A time turner," she said.

The couple smiled. "And it is time for you to go and start your life together," the man said.

"One thousand turns, no more, no less," the woman said. She grasped both their hands in her own.

…

"We're in the past, fifty years before," she said, looking at him.

"I know." Draco withdrew the photo from where he had replaced it in his pocket. "Granger… I'm my own grandpa."

A.N.: Crazy idea I had to get down. Like it? Hate it? Think I'm whacko?


	2. Chapter 2

I'm My Own Grandpa Part 2

By Marmalade Fever

A.N.: So I decided to make it a two-shot, so sue me. Lol

Her head was spinning from the vast amount of new information that had been dropped into her brain much the same way one might drop a stone down a well. She was asleep, asleep, asleep. But no, she was not. She was awake. She was standing alongside Draco Malfoy, in the past, in a kitchen, of a seaside cottage. She was destined to be his wife, his grandmother, his great-great grandmother, his grand-daughter in-law… the mother of his own father. It was a cycle. A never-ending cycle. She was caught. It was destiny. It was…

Professor Trelawney had annoyed her to no end. What would the old bat say now?

Biology, she thought to herself. Genetics. This was impossible. This was an impossibility. One cannot be one's own grandparent. _It does not work that way_.

Malfoy had moved to hold her hand. She shook him away.

Her precious facts, her figures, her numbers, her knowledge… all gone to sea, whoosh! Into a tide pool to live with the starfish and anemones.

She took hold of his hand again.

"You're shaking," he said, moving their hands under his nose for inspection.

"I'm not," she said. "I am," she admitted.

"Granger," he said, looking at her with pleading eyes, "you look nothing like me."

"Should I?"

"You're my grandmother… more than that…" he said, folding and unfolding the photo he held in his hands.

"Maybe not, no, maybe not…" _Genetics, genetics, genetics._

"Your middle name…?" he asked.

"Jane," she said.

"Jane Malfoy…" he whispered, a hint of fear trickling through his voice. "Hermione _Jane _Malfoy," he said.

"I'm not!" she shouted, tearing the photo away from him and staring into the depths. Two people. Two people their own age, with their own features… A girl with a freckle on her right arm, just about the wrist… Them. Them. "Tell me about your family, Malfoy, please?"

He stopped. "My father… my father was raised by friends of the family. My mother… is of no consequence. My grandfather, on my father's side, Draco Malfoy the first, the only, I suppose. It's just me, Granger. Just me. And you. You are Jane Malfoy, my grandmother, mother of my father. My… my…" He was shaking. "If my father's never born, I'm never born. Do you understand that?" He sat down, dropped down, onto the ground, pale, pasty, and shaking.

"Shh," she cooed, stroking his hair, "shh."

…

They walked along the side of the road. It was their house. They'd found the documentation. Before, it had belonged to Atticus Malfoy, and before him… Malfoy after Malfoy after Malfoy. It made no sense. None. How had Draco Malfoy come to be?

The cycle.

Wife, grandmother, wife, grandmother, mother, daughter-in-law, circle circle circle.

He squeezed her hand.

…

"I'm not a pureblood, am I?" he asked, as they sat at the bar of the sparkling and newly-opened Leaky Cauldron.

"I suppose not. Through your mother only… and yourself," she said, sipping her drink.

"How can I be related to myself?" he asked. "How can I pass on my own lineage to myself?"

"You're inbred," she said. "Very."

"You kids and your philosophical discussions," the bartender said, chuckling. They stared.

…

Draco hurried along, clutching the tiny parcel to him. Hurrying, scurrying, through the snow drifts. He'd known it was coming as soon as he realized she had bought the dress… the dress from the photograph. As soon as she admitted she liked it here… with him.

He liked her too.

…

"Marry me?" he asked.

Her breath hitched as she took the gold band from him. "You had to ask?"

They kissed.

…

"It's a boy," the healer announced, displaying a very pale child with straight, blond hair.

"Lucius," they said in unison. No use getting attached. No, no use at all.

"He's his own grandpa," Draco whispered into Hermione's ear. She giggled.

…

"Hermione!" a middle-aged man called, coming into the room with a newspaper.

"Yes?" a woman answered.

"I was born today," he announced. They smiled down at the photograph of the baby.

"Just nineteen more years, then?" she asked.

"Spot on," he answered, kissing her brow.

The End


End file.
